


Chaos Chaos

by epsilonfive



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, first breaking bad fic, not completely jesse/walt but implied, observation, rewrite of One Minute kinda, with more insight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsilonfive/pseuds/epsilonfive
Summary: Walt can't live in mundane anymore. He needs the control and the chaos.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This kinda started off as a small thing about the comparison of Gale and Jesse as partner to Walt and how Walt seems to like chaos around him or involving him and then kinda expanded into the episode after I rewatched it (twice). I dunno if rewrites to this extent are okay, and if not I can always cut it back and try to finish how it originally was planned to be, so if any veteran of ao3 reads this feel free to tell me as such.
> 
> This is my first Breaking Bad fic and is solely the reason I started this account (well you could probably tell from the username haha) so hopefully it's acceptable.
> 
> The title comes from the name of the band Chaos Chaos.

It became tiring fast.

Gale’s constant optimism and chirpy mood is really riding on Walt’s last nerve.

At first meeting, everything had gone so smoothly. The best coffee Walt had ever tasted -- he’d been completely honest about that -- and the easiest and cleanest cook of Walt’s albeit short meth creator career -- he was being honest about that too; but that amount of sunny is now glaring into Walt’s eyes, and it burns.

He doesn’t understand what the issue is; Gale is professional, shares a love of chemistry and scores at every goal in subjects in common with Walt, but Walt is just... on edge.

It’s strange to think that the tension and chaos with his previous partner was somewhat of a comfort to Walt, if not a vent for his frustrations, which he just can’t take out on Gale. At least Jesse warranted it some -- well, all of the time. And even if Gale too, deserved it, Walt wasn’t sure if he could do it anyways; the guy looked like his bones would break if someone so much as looked at him too hard. 

Walt tries his best to make decent, or at least somewhat casual conversation with his partner, running off various tasks and preparing for them not to be even considered and being somewhat surprised when they are. Not only that, but they’re completed. He supposes he should appreciate Gale’s sense of professionalism and promptness, but instead he just feels a twinge of annoyance.

He hides it behind an nod and a smile, picking his way through his locker to remove the hazmat suit needed for the day’s cook.

_You know, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

It takes all of Walt’s willpower not to cringe, the sap from that statement sticking to him like he’s manhandled a leaking tree. Instead he just looks at Gale in a way he hopes seems pleasant enough, which in the end doesn’t matter because Gale’s gone back to looking through his locker. In a way, Walt prefers being hurled insults at.

And being called Mr. White.

Which he thankfully corrected Gale on on the first day they began working together, for what could be multiple reasons, if he allowed himself to believe that.

He of course enjoys the respect that comes with that formality, but seemingly only from one person. A person who had turned the tables and finally gained the upper hand on Walt, at least for now. A plan had already started formulating when he had been checking with Gale about the preparations, one which would not only save Walt’s own ass, but Hank’s as well, which was in Walt’s interest despite what he had said to Skyler earlier.

It'll take some convincing, but he’s sure Jesse will ‘come around’ like he’d said to Saul in the hospital. 

Jesse probably feels like he has no place in the world right now.

Walt will make a place for him. Side by side like old times, close by where he can be kept an eye on. 

Walt had underestimated Jesse greatly, and it was costing him. He didn’t expect Jesse to just lie down and succumb to his injuries, but he thought he could talk Jesse out of his threat, especially with Saul there backing him up. 

Thinking back, despite Walt’s terror which he had managed to hide superbly, he’d been sort of sickeningly... proud? Was that it? The kid was so sure of himself, so ready to fight for his best interest and no one else’s, something which he must’ve picked up from Walt from their time together.

He has one moment to consider that sort of arrogant, even for himself, before the temperature gauge come into his vision, and he begins to unfold his plan. He leans in, takes one quick glance at Gale then taps the glass with a blue gloved finger.

“Gale,” He says curtly, looking at the man in question, who turns at the mention of his name. “What temperature did you set here?”

“Here?” Gale begins as he glances up at the machinery. “Station five, seventy-five c.”

Walt feels his insides inflate somewhat at the chance to finally, finally call his partner out on a mistake, be it real or not, shaking his head and giving Gale a cold look.

“I said eighty-five. Eight-five.”

After what feels like an age of silence, Gale rechecks his clipboard.

“I wrote it down. You said seventy-five. I wrote it--”

“Well, you wrote it wrong. That’s not what I said. I said eighty-five,” 

 _Yes, challenge me,_ Walt thinks fiercely, missing the adrenaline rush he got whenever he and Jesse disagreed on something (which was always.)

“It’s _always_ been eighty-five.”

Gale just looks at him with an infuriatingly neutral expression, and Walt doesn’t need to fake irritation any more. He steps closer, bearing down on Gale and hoping to get some kind of rise out of him.

“Not seventy-five. Not ninety-five. Eighty-five,” 

His expression is all aggression and still Gale is just giving him that blank look, so Walt decides to hit where it hurts.

“This is chemistry. Degrees matter,” 

That’s it. Gale looks crestfallen as Walt walks away, and a reaction is better than none at all, even though Walt would have preferred more of a challenge.

“I’m sorry,” Gale says quietly. “I’m very sorry.”

“Great,” Walt says coolly, gesturing to the machine. “You’re sorry, meanwhile you’ve just brewed fifty gallons of useless sludge. Congratulations. Just dump it, dump it all. This batch is ruined.”

He presses the button to turn off the machine before Gale walks very slowly, like a zombie towards it, chancing a final glance at Walt before they pull their gas masks down and proceed to empty the current batch.

* * *

 Walt drums his fingers on his knee as he calls up Gus and explains that Gale is not working out as his partner. He takes a breath before suggesting Jesse as the replacement. 

There is a silence on the end of the phone and for a moment Walt thinks he’s been hung up on.

Fortunately however he hasn’t, and he’s of course met with curt disagreement.

He starts rambling some bullshit about how he and Jesse work better than Walt and Gale ever could -- well maybe in part that’s true -- and Gus is still not convinced.

Feeling his stomach twist a little, he gathers up his nerve and reminds Gus of his ownership of the lab and that he knows how to run it best.

Finally, Gus agrees, and Walt let’s his head fall back and his eyes shut with relief before he thanks the former and assures him that he will make sure there are no mistakes.

After a moment, he stands and heads to Jesse’s room.

“Listen. Something’s come up,”

He pulls out a chair slowly over to the side of Jesse’s bed, and begins his pitch, knowing that Jesse is still down because of his wounds but remaining cautious regardless. He won’t make the mistake of underestimating Jesse again.

“I think it’s a good opportunity,” Walt sits and pauses for a moment before continuing. “There’s been a job opening. I need a new lab assistant.”

Jesse's head turns to Walt and gives a look so dead Walt would check Jesse’s pulse if he hadn’t just moved.

“I already did my time,” Jesse begins with nothing but resentment in his tone. “Why don’t you just go get yourself a monkey?”

“I don’t want a monkey, I want you,” Walt says with more honesty than he’s projected for months now.

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Jesse says in that same tone. “Well, not interested. I got my own thing going on,”

Walt had expected such an answer, so he waits patiently for Jesse to talk, taking a breath.

“And nice try, saving your asshead brother-in-law,”

Well. Wait supposed it’d been a bit optimistic of him to think Jesse wouldn’t figure it out. Despite making some truly idiotic decisions in Walt’s opinion, he had to admit the kid was quick on the uptake sometimes. He’d actually listened to Walt’s explanation of his recipe, watched him create it intently and then go ahead and made it himself, at a lot better standard than Walt would expect.

“That’s not why I’m here Jesse,” Walt counters, head tilting a little in that tic he has when he was trying to either persuade or intimidate someone. “There’s more. It’s more than an assistant,” Short pause. “Partners.”

Jesse’s looking at the ceiling, same dead-eyed expression, and Walt worries that it’s going to stay that way from now on.

“We’ll be partners again,” 

Jesse’s gaze travels to him, but he says nothing, so Walt continues.

“Split everything fifty-fifty, just like before. One-point-five million dollars,” Another pause for emphasis. “Each.” He raises his eyebrows to further press his point.

There’s a long silence in which Walt can swear he sees tears brewing in Jesse’s good eye, the blue iris flashing for the first time since Walt entered the room.

“No,” Jesse says simply,  his voice cracking. 

Walt takes a breath.

“I don’t think you heard--”

“I heard you fine,” Jesse’s voice is trembling now, his emotional side getting the better of him. “I said no.”

“Let me understand this,” Walt says after a moment. “You’re turning down one and a half million dollars--”

“I am not turning down the money!” Jesse cuts Walt off, rising off the bed to prop himself on his elbow, pain and fire in his eyes. “I am turning down you!” A point with his other hand accusingly in Walt’s direction.

“You get it? I want nothing to do with you!”

Walt is silent. He lets Jesse continue.

“Ever since I met you, everything I’ve ever.. cared about... is gone.” Jesse’s voice breaks harder now. “Ruined... turned to shit, dead, ever since I hooked up with the great Heisenburg!” 

Jesse is fighting tears, Walt can tell, and in that instant the latter cannot look at Jesse anymore. His eyes close, guilt starting to well up inside him. 

“I have never been more alone,” Jesse’s lip trembles. “I have nothing! No one! Alright? It’s all gone! Get it?!” He screams the latter part out in anguish. 

Walt blinks and looks at the ground, his own bottom lip twitching slightly. Jesse’s words rip through him, the truth of them worsening the blow.

“No. No, no why--? Why would _you_ get it?! What do you even care as long as _you_ get what _you_ want? Right?” Walt stays quiet. What he wanted did come on his first list of priorities, he couldn’t deny that. As soon as he’d walked in, Jesse had already called him out on why he was trying to bring Jesse back into the fold, so there was no use trying to argue that point. 

“You don’t give a _shit_ about me.” 

Walt, whose eyes had been scanning the floor, had to look up at Jesse at that utterance. Now this part he does want to counter, he wants to say that while Jesse was frustrating and unorthodox and difficult and clumsy and rather simple, Walt still has some kind of affection or at least protectiveness towards him. They were always butting heads, always at odds, but there were times when things were peaceful, when they were cooking, that things were... fine. Good, even. There was the den where Walt had found Jesse, high out of his mind, and felt fear and worry and guilt all swirl around in his guts. He had held the boy then, petted the back of his head and shushed him, the sobbing that wracked through Jesse and reverberated to Walt’s shoulder sending a wave of pain out from his chest right to his fucking jaw. All he could do was comfort Jesse until the latter was able to even stand, some half hour later. He had half dragged, half carried Jesse to his car, stashing him inside it carefully and driving to rehab. The matter of the bill had come up, and Walt had paid it without hesitation. What was money when it came to Jesse’s life?

In Jesse’s state at the den, Walt was sure Jesse would have been dead within a week.

“You said I was no good,” Jesse continues, bringing Walt out of reminiscence. “I’m nothing. Why would you want me, huh?”

It was a logical question after what Walt had said what felt like ages ago, and one that Walt couldn’t quite put into words to answer.

“You said my meth is inferior, right?” Walt stands up and makes his way to the door, decided. “Right? Hey, you said my cook was garbage!”

There was the fight Walt had not heard the entire time he had been in that room. It gives him a small amount of hope.

“Hey screw you, man!” Jesse adds as an afterthought. “Screw you...” He manages before he’s overcome with sobs.

Walt turns to Jesse then, blinking back what threatened to be tears welling up in his own eyes. 

“Your meth is good, Jesse,” He says with a nod, letting someone see his true face for the first time in a long while. “As good as mine.” 

* * *

 Walt arrives home some time later, taking a few moments before stepping out of his car and sighing.

He feels a buzz in his pocket, and hastily draws his phone from his pants pocket.

He looks at the caller id to see Jesse’s name in bold black. It takes a while for him to register the fact that Jesse might have just changed his mind, before he opens the phone and answers.

“Yeah.” Is all he says.

A pause. And then--

“Fifty-fifty,”

Jesse’s voice sounds the epitome of exhausted, and Walt’s amazed Jesse’s still conscious.

“Yes, fifty-fifty,”

“Okay. Partners.”

Walt’s eyes roll back into his head in utter relief as he closes his eyes, the defeated, empty feeling slowly dissipating through him like a fresh dose of chemo fluid. 

_Thank you, you don’t know how much this means, you’ve saved us all._

**_I thought I’d lost you._ **

“Good.”

Jesse hangs up the call.

All those things Walt could have... nay, should have said. 

They would forever be trapped inside their cage in his cold, logical mind.


End file.
